The Curious Case of the Clairvoyant
by TheMamaBear
Summary: A realistic take on Girl Falls Into Sherlock Series. Starts a little bit before season 3. Not planned to be a OC romance story.
1. Chapter 1

So basically this is just more of a realistic take on girl-falling-into-Sherlock-series. I do love these pre-cog stories and tend to gravitate towards them… But I have a hard time reading ones that aren't very realistic ( don't get me wrong, I do love the silly ones too!) so I thought..why don't I write one?

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I blinked my eyes a few times to adjust to being a part of the waking world and realized several things.

First, I was laying down on cold cement and not in my own bed. Second, I was cold. Freezing in fact. Last, I had no idea why I was laying on such a hard surface freezing to death.

I shivered as I pulled myself into a seated position and looked around as I rubbed my bare arms.

 _Where am I?_

I started to breath faster as panic settled in.

 _What the heck am I doing in a small concrete room? Was I kidnapped? Am I going to be sold into slavery?_

The imagined scenarios in my head started to get progressively worse as I started to take in my surroundings.

I turned to look behind me and nearly screamed as I scrambled away from a body. A dead body, from the looks of it, as it was in the middle of a pool of blood.

My adrenaline fueled body immediately took in the knife imbedded in the chest of the man. _Man? Yes, man. Not a woman._ And..

 _Blood. So much blood._

I gagged and looked away before I could register exactly how much damage was inflicted on him to cause so much blood.

 _Oh my word, I'm freaking out and he might still be alive!_

I pushed down my nausea and crawled toward him and checked his neck for a pulse. Even before I could properly gauge where his artery was I knew that he was dead. His icy blue eyes stared vacantly up and his face was completely blank. The spike of adrenaline in my body made everything seem crystal clear yet at the same time I had trouble figuring out what to do next.

 _So this is what a dead body looks like._ I thought numbly.

I leaned away from him and started to shake. I had to grit my teeth together to stop them from shattering themselves against each other.

 _Ohmanohmanohman. I need to calm down. Breath, breath, breeeeeath deep, breath in, exhale out. In through the nose, out through the mouth._

Some part of my brain informed me that I was probably going into shock and needed to get somewhere where I could call for help.

 _Get up, get out and get help_. I stood up shakily and wobbled my way to a open door and started making my way down the steps.

 _Definitely not a dream or a prank show._ I though to myself as I made it to the base of the stairs to another door that led to the outside.

I started down the alley way towards the sound of cars picking up speed as I went, my jaw clenched the whole way, and finally reached the cobbled street.

 _Wait..cobbled? No, doesn't matter, GET HELP._

With a small sob of relief, I rounded the corner and smacked right into a flash of blond hair and-

"Woah there, are you alright?"

I sagged a bit unsteady on my feet and looked up straight into concerned blue eyes. He held me steady with both arms as I tried to point back at the alley I just came out of.

"Help, please help." I tried to steady myself and breathed in to stop from sobbing the words out.

It was only then that I noticed that the hand I was trying to point down the alley with was covered in blood. _That is so gross,_ I thought numbly, _must have happened when I tried to check that guys pulse. Should I worry about blood borne pathogen's?_

"Are you hurt?" His voice was serious but gentle, "I'm a doctor."

A quiet rational part of my brain registered that he had a cool British accent while another part of my brain was simply concerned about whether or not I would get AIDs from being exposed to blood. I swallowed and managed to string together words.

"There's a guy...back there...in a building. He's dead. Knife in his chest. Lotsa blood." I managed out in a trembling voice.

I looked up at the kind British doctor and anchored myself in his blue eyes. I barely registered him telling the collecting crowd to call the police.

 _This shouldn't be happening. This is what happens in movies, not to real people! Is this going to scar me for life? What the heck is going on?_

"My name is Dr. John Watson, what's your name?" He cut into my thoughts as he shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around me.

"Becca Singer" I replied automatically, trying wrap myself further into his coat for warmth.

"Becca, are you hurt anywhere?" He asked me gently as he looked me over trying to determine if the blood on my hands was mine.

"No...at least, I don't think so.." I slowly shook my head as I tried to analyze how I was feeling physically and we both looked down to my feet.

In my hurry to get away from the building and find help, I never realized I was barefoot. Barefoot and bleeding from several small cuts.

In fact, I wasn't wearing much of anything except for my pajama shorts and the t-shirt I wore to bed.

No wonder I was cold.

Well, that and the shock.

"Ok, lets have you sit down while we wait for the police" he said as he guided me down to sit down on the sidewalk.

The next few minutes passed in a blur with me barely registering the British guy talking on his phone and him carefully cleaning the cuts on my foot. I could barely hear him start to ask me questions as I started to go full on into shock.

 _My mom is going to freak out when she finds out all of this. I wonder if I'll be in the news. Huh, this'll be a story I'll tell my grandkids about-_

I jerked and hissed through my teeth as I was suddenly aware of the doctor as he cleaned a especially deep cut on the bottom of my foot.

I looked up and realized that while I was in my own thoughts the police had arrived. But they weren't normal police cars. The coloring was off. Blue and yellow.

 _What?_

"Lestraude, over here!" The British doctor called out to one of the men getting out of a car.

 _That name sounds familiar._

"Becca? Becca, can you look at me?"

I blinked a few times and turned my head to look at him.

"Becca, this is Detective Inspecter Lestraude," He rubbed my arm supportively, "Can you tell him what you saw in the building?"

The other man walked up and gave me a grim nod and turned to the doctor.

"Is Sherlock with you?" He asked in a British accent.

 _What? Wait._

 _Am I really in so much shock that I'm imagining that I'm really hearing these names?_

 _John Watson. Dr. John Watson. Lestraude. Detective inspector Lestraude._

 _They're both British._

 _And now the name Sherlock._

They must have seen the look on my face and thought I was about to throw up or have a panic attack. Lestraude _Lestraude?_ backed up a few steps but John _john? c_ arefully turned me so that I could safely throw up without spewing it all over myself or anyone else.

The rational part of my brain was trying to make sense of it all in a way that would, well…make sense.

 _Ok, first I wake up in a unknown cold concrete room..then I find a dead body that looks like it could've been from a horror movie, and then to top it off I'm going into shock and it's making me imagine strange things…_

 _That's it. I'm in shock. There are cases like this, right?_

 _OOH! I get it._

Everything clicked into place

 _These guys are cosplaying and they think I'm part of a role-playing thing! I get it now. I must I have stumbled into a convention and this is the Sherlock group . And these guys are doing a role-playing scenario I think I'm involved as an actor!_

"You don't understand! This is actually happening! There is a real dead body in that building over there!" I started getting hysterical and shoved my bloodied hands toward them as proof. "I'm not acting! We need to call the real police!"

The guy playing Lestraude crouched down and explained like he would a small child, "We _are_ the real police."

 _No._

 _You aren't._

 _You're just a older weird dude great job cosplaying Lestraude._

 _Yes, you do look a bit like him but you're no police._

 _Just like the guy cosplaying John looks like John…._

I noticed a tall figure come up behind the John cosplayer and took in the trenchcoat, mussed hair, and gleeful expression on his face.

"John, you said there was a murder?" There was no mistaking the look on his face for unbridled delight.

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Depending on if I get great responses or not I might continue this. I'm thinking of starting in season three because Mary. I love her. Drop a review!


	2. Chapter 2

First off, I have no idea what I'm doing or where I'm heading with this... I'm just having a bit of fun with it.

Second, I was pointed out by a dear friend that I misspelled Lestrade. Whoops.

Third, I think I'll reply to my reviews here:

Spnlove101: I think I shall continue this. It makes me happy.

Amy: why, thank you! I hope to continue making it well.

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 _Ain't no worries, for the rest of your days..it's our problem free, philosophy. Hakuna matata!_

My brain was on loop like a broken record player. A broken record player which happened to play Hakuna Matata over and over again.

"Miss?"

 _Hakuna matata, hakuna matata-_

"Yeah?" I tried to ignore the music playing in the back of my mind and tried to focus on the man in front of me. He had such kind blue eyes...I tried to focus on that.

"Are you all right?" He asked me gently as he crouched down to be eye to eye with me.

"Uh, I think so." I stuttered out. W _hy can't I get that stupid song outta my head? I need to focus! Wait.._ It was then that I noticed someone had draped a orange blanket around me. _When did that happen?_

I drew the blanket closer around me as a sudden flash of memory popped up of the time Sherlock kept getting a orange blanket draped over him.

"Becca?" I looked back up at the man and tried to suppress the manic grin that was trying to come out. _Great. This is being in shock. I hate it. Now he'll think I'm crazy.._

 _Crazy...crazy like the fact that I seem to be suddenly in the middle of a Sherlock set without a camera, film crew and the director? Not to mention the fact that the guy insisting that he's John Watson is staring at me in concern? Crazy like people insisting they are fictional characters? CRAZY LIKE SUDDENLY WAKING UP NEXT TO A DEAD GUY KNIFED TO DEATH?_

I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath to calm down and tried to control the inner child that wanted to scream and run in terror.

"Becca, do you know what day it is today?"

 _Um, no._

 _I don't know, British cosplay doctor man._

 _It was June when I went to bed and apparently its wintertime where I woke up. Did I get abducted to Australia?_

 _Or worse!_ I stared wide eyed down at my hands, noticing the tinged brown around my fingernails that they couldn't quite clean off, _did I suffer a psychotic breakdown after suffering a traumatic experience and I'm only now coming to my senses? Am I actually really crazy?_

"I don't know..", I whispered looking up at him, "I honestly don't know.."

He immediately came closer to look into my eyes and asked, "Did you bump your head at any point, headaches, or nausea?"

"I don't know, I don't know!" I started sobbing as I wrapped myself further into the blanket.

 _I want my mom. I want my mom so bad. This can't be happening!_

"What is your roll in this?"

I jerk my head up towards the new voice above me and stared up at the Sherlock cosplayer in surprise.

 _Wait one hot minute..he thinks I-_

"You think I," All my fear and shock turned to anger, "did that?"

"If you're referring to the murder of that man, of course not." He frowned and waved away the idea like he would an annoying fly. "You are clearly left handed. The murderer was a right handed man or perhaps a strong, tall woman. And from the lack of blood splatter on you," he slide his eyes over me, "clearly, you were not around him at the time of his murder, neck wounds spray and all that. John can tell you." He looked pointedly at the exasperated looking John Watson cosplayer before he leaned back and held his hands behind his back.

I took in his immaculate imitation of Sherlock. How can someone talk that fast without running out of breath?

"Furthermore, what does intrigue me," He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, "is that you and the man have seemed to appeared out of thin air."

 _What?_

"It's been horribly wet weather for the last four days and yet his clothing, much less his pant hems, are quite dry. There's a suprising lack of blood in and around him considering he was knifed to death, so it's clear that he was murdered elsewhere. And yet there are no signs that he was carried or moved there by anyone." His piercing eyes crinkled at the edges as he grinned. "I'm intrigued by the fact that you woke up next to the body of a man that was murdered elsewhere and yet you don't seem to know the man at all."

"Sherlock." The other British guy let out a low disapproving huff.

He then leaned closer to me and said,"So therefore my initially question. What is your roll in this?" He stood there glaring down at me while ignoring the John Watson cosplayers words of protest.

I had enough of this role playing.

"Look," I tried to control the tremor in my voice as I started getting angry, "you seem to think you're some genius detective that solves crimes but I'm telling you, this isn't a game!" I clutched at my orange blanket and yelled, " You are NOT Sherlock Holmes! You're not! Because he doesn't exist! And if you think you're him, then you're crazy!"

"I'm not crazy. I," he replied in a condescending voice, "am high functioning sociopath!"

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Reviews are greatly appreciated. It helps me be motivated to write and constructive reviews make me a better one.


	3. Chapter 3

**So here's the next chapter!**

 **Char: I love you! And I will def write mooooore! :) even tho it's going to turn out to be a bigger project than I thought..**

 **Cladnplaid: When I saw that another person (you) left a review..I literally pressed my lips together so the squeal of delight that was welling out wouldn't come out and wake my newborn. I'm so happy you like this style! Half the time I have no idea what I'm trying to do and then I go back and change most of it...and then hate it and change it again. I'm indecisive like that.**

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I snuggled up against my warm pillow and stretched out with a blissful sigh. It wasn't often that I woke up naturally without my phone blaring it's alarm and jolting me awake.

 _Man, that was a crazy dream._

 _Wait a sec.._

I jerked my eyes open to look around and for the second time in my life I realized that I wasn't in my own bed and that I had no idea where I was.

I whipped my head around trying to take in what I could when the door opened and a woman walked in. A nurse, judging from her outfit.

"Good morning! My name is Marissa. How are you feeling?" She smiled and briskly walked up to the foot of my bed and picked up a chart.

 _So a young British lady? Where the heck am I?_

"Uh, I'm ok, I think..." I stuttered out. "Um, where am I?"

"You're in St Bartholomew's hospital. London, dear." She replied with a sympathetic look on her face. "Do you remember much of anything?"

 _London?_

I rubbed my hands over my face as I suddenly remembered what had happened. There was a lot of yelling, sobbing and then hyperventilating, all in that order and all on my part. Then there was nothing.

"You were in such a state that they had to sedate you." She suddenly looked worried as if I was going to do it all over again.

"Wasn't there a man with me? His name _oh my word_ was John Watson?"

"Oh yes! Doctor Watson! He was here earlier and wanted to know when you'd wake up." She smiled as she went over to the door. "I'll go let him know you're awake."

"Ok" I called out weakly as she left the room just as briskly as she came in.

 _So John Watson was concerned about me?_

I leaned back into my pillow and closed my eyes.

 _John Watson, DI Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes and then St Bart's hospital..London._

 _All this makes no sense._

 _What the heck is going on?_

 _It's like I'm in the world of Sherlock._

I jerked my eyes open.

 _What if I am? Or...what if I'm a person that just THINKS that Sherlock is a TV show but it's actually real and I'm just crazy and think I have a whole other life that's based on fragments of my imagination?_

 _No._

I pulled the pillow over my head.

 _My life is too real to have imagined everything. Or maybe that's what all crazy people think?_

I rolled over to my side and curled up into a fetal position.

 _My life is way too real. I mean, c'mon Becca. You seriously think that you have the imagination to think up the time you watched Sherlock with your best friend? That can't be fake. Sherlock is a show!_

 _Maybe I can find out if I'm crazy. Maybe I'll just ask the right questions and make sure that I'm not crazy._

 _Ok, think. Think think think. I need to figure out what day it is._

I scrambled out of my bed covers and lunged for the chart at the end of the bed. I look at the top, looking for anything that had a date on it.

I blinked and double checked the date on the chart.

January 19th, 2014.

 _No, that can't be. It was June, 2017. It was the beginning of summer. It can't be January. It shouldn't be 2014._

I realized I was breathing hard so I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, letting it slowly out.

 _Ok, think, Becca. Think._

 _If I am in Sherlock. And I mean a big IF..what's happened already? Has Sherlock jumped yet? Have they even met each other yet? Is John married to Mary?_

 _Oh my word._ I shuddered and gripped the edge of the bed. _What About Moriarty? If he's actually real in this world..he's a psychopathic killer genius. If he somehow finds me, will he kill me? Can I even die here?_

 _Is Mary dead already?_

 _Has Euros made herself known yet?_

 _Why didn't I pay more attention to the shows? Why didn't I watch them more? I don't know anything! I don't know!_

 _Wait._

 _That's it! I'll just pretend like I have amnesia! It'll work right? Like they do in the movies? I obviously have no idea how I even got to where I woke up next to the dead guy.. so that's going for me._

I jerked back in the bed when a knocking at the door interrupted my thoughts.

"Come in" I squeaked out as I smoothed the covers back over me.

In walked the British doctor.

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 **Like always, reviews make me happy, constructive reviews make me happier, and reviews with suggestions on how to make it better make me positively gleeful.**

 **Oatmeal rasin cookies for all who review! And if you're one of those many people that don't like oatmeal rasin cookies..then I have a few choice words for you...I'm going to find you, and then I'm going to whip..**

 **Up a batch of chocolate cookies for you to go along with my oatmeal rasin cookies and we are going to eat them fresh out of the oven while we laugh and watch Sherlock bloopers.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for the long wait!**

 **I haven't any clue what I'm doing half the time...and tbh, this chapter is kinda bleh cause I wrote it when I wasn't really feeling like writing..but I knew I had to!**

 **Thank you for the reviews and the follows! Oatmeal cookies all around!**

 **LunaEvanna Longbottom: *picks the raisins out the the cookies* Here you go! Thanks for the review! Writing longer chapters is hard because I keep wanting to post these up as soon as I write them!**

 **intjsherlocked: AWWWW! Thank you so much! I'm so glad that you're enjoying it and it makes me want to write more and more! Please, keep reading and giving me feedback!**

 **Cladnplaid: it might be a slow build up but I'm certainly having fun writing it! So happy that you're enjoying it!**

 **lavonnadarc: thank you! Hope this chapter makes up for the long absence..**

 **Pastel-Potatoes: Spelling mistakes! The bane of my existence! Let me know where those spots are and I will try my best to fix them. I try to re-read what I just wrote but sometimes those sneaky little devil's get past and can ruin a good sentence. In the words of the late Madeye Moody, "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"**

 **SHSHSHSH**

He was short, blonde and looked eerily similar to the guy that played John Watson in the series. Eerily similar but he looked just a little different.

 _As if the casting director saw this guy and then cast the Martin guy cause he looks like him._

I must have resembled a frightened gopher with my head poking out of the white hospital covers because he slowly and carefully walked over with a small unassuming smile. I realized that his walk and his whole body language was relaxed and completely meant to disarm any fears I would possibly have.

 _Huh, I guess I keep forgetting that he IS a actual doctor. Bed side manner and all that._

"I'm glad to see you awake," He said softly as the edges of his eyes crinkled. "How are you feeling?"

 _Yikes, what a loaded question. How do I even answer that?_

"I'm doing ok, I think." I replied quietly, unknowingly mimicking his small smile. "I'm a bit hungry."

What can I say? I'm a emotional eater.

"Let's get you something to eat."

He smiled kindly and stepped back to the door and said a few soft words out to someone standing right outside.

I suddenly realized, thinking back to all the cop tv shows I've seen, that there must have been a cop right outside the door.

 _After all,_ I thought with a chill, _I AM part of a gruesome murder investigation._

"My friend, the detective, wants to ask a few questions," He paused as he gauged my reaction. " Will that be alright?

"I think so." I gave him what I thought would be a convincing smile.

 _Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap, AMNESIA! I have amnesia and I need to sell it._

 _"_ Good, I'll have him come in right now."

 _NOW? CrapcrapCRAP! I need more time!_

I gripped the covers as if they were my life line as I froze, watched him walk over to the door and lean out, calling out to someone outside.

The man that walked in, just like John, looked like the actor who played him. He even had the same grayish hair but a youthful face.

Lestrade walked in with a grim nod to John and strod over to my bed. He then gave me a softer nod and introduced himself again to me.

"Hello." I replied licked my lips nervously as I unclenched my sweaty fingers and wiped them surreptitiously undenether the covers.

He whipped out his little notebook from his front pocket and I flicked my eyes towards his torso to see if I could see his gun holster.

"Alright," He then gave me a tight smile, "What's your name?"

"Becca Singer." I nodded like a idiot to assure my integrity in replying the truth.

 _I already told them my real name but stay on track! Be consistent now! Cmon Becca. You can do this._

"Do you think you'll be able to answer some questions?" His voice took on a gentler tone as he took in my nervousness.

"I understand you were present at the crime scene." He looked down at me as I nodded in affirmation. "Were you present when it happened?"

"I, I don't know." I shook my head and looked down at my sweaty hands.

 _Ew, why are my nails so long? I need to cut them._

 _NO! Think! AMNESIA, be consistent!_

"I don't remember anything except for waking up next to him." I paused and then clarified. "Waking up next to him being already dead, I mean."

He stared at me. "So you don't remember anything?"

"Oh, I do remember my name," I thought, remembering back to my screaming conversation with Sherlock. "And something to do with this being a TV show..but I think I was in shock, or something...but besides my name," I paused and closed my eyes, "I don't remember anything... where I live, why I'm even here, if I even have a job or not…It's just a big blank."

 _Please buy it, please buy it!_

I almost sighed with relief as I watched him rock back on his heels in surprise and share a look with John. "Well, let's try to get everything you know so that we can help you."

 _Bless this man and his simplicity._

 **SHSHSHSH**

He finally thanked me and after pleasantries and his card, and a promise from me to let him know if I remember anything, they both left. I told them everything. Which was basically nothing.

I had woken up having no idea how I got there, my name was the only thing I knew about myself, and I was very very confused as to why I happened to speak in an American accent while in Britain.

Now all I needed to do was to keep my story straight and let nothing slip.

Let nothing slip? I happen to have met and somehow garnered the pity of John Watson, the partner of the greatest detective!

Yah, this'll be easy.

A few minutes after they left there was another knock at the door. At my reply, Nurse Marissa bustled in with a tray of hospital food.

"Hello, dear!" Her cheerful voice turned sympathetic. "I heard about you not being able to remember anything." She laid the tray on a neaby table and wheeled it over. "Let me know if I can help you with anything!" She called out as she left out the door.

I sighed and leaned back in my bed to collect myself. I felt so drained and exhausted. So far I didn't get a chance to figure out when in the time line I was in.

 _Gah, I should have looked down at his ring finger to see if he was married!_

I looked over at the tray and snatched up the fork and started pulling off the lids, stuffing food into my mouth.

 _Not bad,_ I thought as I chewed, or rather, inhaled the hospital food, _nothing like hunger to make anything taste good._

In my haste to eat my food I ended up spilling some of the food onto the covers. I glared at it in annoyance, the sauce was already starting to stain. As it was against my personal rule to let any food go to waste, I carefully wiped it onto my fingers and started bringing it to my mouth.

 _"_ They told me you have amnesia."

The sauce went flying from my finger as I jerked in surprise and gaped at the person who had just spoken.

He raised a eyebrow and looked at the impact point of the sauce on the wall behind me and continued, "I find it quite interesting that you have no memory of the incident."

He turned his inquisitive gaze towards me as he stood with his hands behind his back.

 _CrapcrapCRAP!. He's going to deduce me and know that I'm lying!_

 _Ok, play it cool. Stick close to the truth._

I grabbed a napkin and wiped my fingers as I stalled and panicked. Raising my eyes to his, I took a deep breath and replied in my most sincere voice, "I really don't know how I got here..I honestly don't. I don't even know why I'm in England."

His eyes bore into my own and I stared back. He must have seen the quiet terror in them because he looked away and spoke in a soft voice,

"I'm sorry...about yesterday." I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

 _Sherlock? Sorry?_

"John said that I should apologize to you in the way I was acting. I suppose it didn't help the situation."

 _Oh, John._

 _If I remember correctly, the only man that is able to bring out the human side of Sherlock._

 _"_ Uh, no problem." I stuttered out and looked down at my food to pick at it nervously.

"Where are you going to be staying?" His tone was casual but I could feel the weight of his stare without needing to look up.

"I'm not sure.." I paused for a moment to clear my throat and rambled on, "I'm pretty sure that I'll be sent back to the States cause I don't think I'm exactly a British citizen.."

 _Do I even exist in this place? Is there another Becca Evelyn Singer in this world?_

 _Crap. If I really don't exist in this world, I'm screwed._

"Well, until then, you can stay at my flat."

"What?" I looked up in surprise at his casual invitation.

"I'm sure Lestrade will get it all figured out who you are," He smiled, or rather, did a semblemce of a polite smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, "and in the meantime, I can help you remember who you are and how you got in this particular situation."

His offer was most certainly said in a polite way but I could see that he was more interested in the mystery than actually helping me.

And besides.

 _What are the odds that I drop into a Sherlock world and end up getting invited to live in his apartment while he figures out who I am?_

 _No, this isn't a weird coicidence. Not freaky at all. Not in the slightest._

"I-I, I don't know if that's going to be ok with the police!" I stuttered out in panic.

"Don't worry, Lestrade will handle it." He replied confidently.

"And I don't even have any clothes!" I gestured at my hospital gown.

"I'm sure Mrs. Hudson would have something suitable for you to wear." He waved his arm vaguely, "women tend to share their clothes with one another."

I thought desperately for a out. " Don't you live with John? I'll just be in the way."

"John hasn't lived with me for a few years." He looked at me curiously. "He lives with his fiancé."

 _Oh. Ok. So Mary is here but they haven't married yet._

 _Aaand, now I've said something I couldn't possibly know._

 _"_ Oh, uh, John was just here and he mentioned that you guys either were roommates or something like that.." I covered my flub.

That seemed to satisfy him because he continued, "You obviously don't have anywhere to stay and you staying with me is the obvious choice in this situation. You can stay in John's old room until this case is solved."

 _Great. I'm just a juicy case for him to solve and possibly a blog post for John._

"I'll just text Lestrade and let him know what's going on."

 _I'm sure his tone was meant to be soothing._

He shrugged off his long iconic Sherlock overcoat and walked over, holding the coat out to me.

I continued to stare at him until I realized that he was actually waiting for me to stand up, put the coat on, and leave with him.

"Don't I have to go through a checking out procedure?"

He let out a long sigh and rolled his eyes. "They'd most likely want to keep you for several days. Would you rather stay here for that time?"

 _To be completely honest, no. I'd rather not._

 _What do I even want? Do I want to stay here and be sent back to the states? Or do I want to embrace the situation I'm in and become a member of the Sherlock series?_

 _Well, Becca, whatever you're meant to do here… Maybe being sent here wasn't an accident…maybe you can figure out why and maybe how to get back home._

I reached out, grabbed his coat and put it around me as I gingerly stood up, suddenly extremely aware of the fact that I wasn't wearing a bra.

 _Ew. His coat smelled kinda musty and sweaty. When was the last time he washed this thing?_

I ran my fingers through my hair to make myself look at least decently human, pulled on the hospital slippers I found at the foot of my bed and nodded at Sherlock.

He politely open the door and waited as I ran back to the bed to snatch the Jell-O cup to take with me. I then carefully wrapped his coat around me, took a deep breath, and walked out the door.

 **SHSHSHSH**

 **Hoped y'all like it and please leave a review… It helps me greatly.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello! Sorry for the long wait for this chapter. I was begining to think the next season of Sherlock would come out before this one did. I'd like to say I was busy saving the world and fighting crime...but in reality I was busy reading Eomer and Lothiriel fanfictions, catching up on marvel Netflix and then watching Stranger Things on my free time. So yeah, I was procrastinating and generally unproductive in writing.**

 **Thanks for all the reviews and shout out to my friend for fixing part of this story. If any of y'all see any mistakes or inconsistencies, pleas let me know because they are all mine.**

 **Now reviews:**

 **WizardingWhovian: Sherlock is a smart man...I doubt ANYTHING gets past him. ;) well...other than the intricacies of human interaction. But that's why he has John.**

 **legolulu7: hey, new reader! I really like you! I liked that part too :)**

 **lavonnadarc: daw, thanks, you're so sweet.**

 **Char: Other detail suggestions would be lovely.**

 **CladnPlaid: YES! I'm so glad you like it! And double points for you for referencing Harry Potter! 10 points to your house!**

 **iwantthenamebutitataken: interesting name there. I'm so glad you like this! It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy and happy.**

 **Cashagon: Here is that chapter I promised! I apologize profusely for being so long in the waiting...I like that name you offered, though I will change the spelling.**

 **I Growl For Fun: I have that same reaction when I finally find something on this site that I fall in love with.**

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

The ride to 221 Bakers Street was surprising uneventful despite the fact that I had to push down the panic I felt every time the taxi turned onto a street to drive on the left side.

I recognized the little restaurant with the red over hanging sign above it even before the taxi pulled up next to it. Completely self conscious of the fact that I wore hospital slippers and a hospital gown underneath Sherlock's musty coat, I carefully stepped out of the taxi. I wrapped it tighter around myself as a a chilling breeze carried the scent of food towards me and my thoughts wandered towards the jello cup I stuffed into the coat pocket.

 _Speedy's,_ I thought as I gazed up at the letters in bold. _I wonder if this place actually exsists in my world._

 _I wonder if the food is good? I'll have to try it._

 _I wonder if they have French fries? Does this world even HAVE French fries?_

"Are you coming?"

I blinked and looked over at Sherlock. He was standing at his apartment doorway and I suddenly realized he was studying me. Not just studying me but _deducing_ me.

Despite the chilly air, my back immediately began to sweat.

 _Crappity, crapcrap_

 _How can I be so stupid! How could I forget that he's flipping Sherlock!_

 _Of course he's going to be watching me and how I react to things._

I walked over to him, trying to quiet my internal screaming, and gave him a weak smile, stammering, "I guess I'm still a bit hungry." I nodded my head innocently towards the cafe. "Have you ever eaten there?"

He turned away from the black door he was about to opened and narrowed his eyes while raising an eyebrow.

 _That's it. He knows._ I swollowed painfully as I tried to look serenely back at him and, hopefully, looking a bit hungry.

After a pause that felt like the Guinness world record of pauses, he finally looked away as he opened the black door that plainly read 221B in golden letters.

 _221B...it actually exists.._

 _Well, if Sherlock and John Watson exsist then their place should exist too._

I did my best not to appear as wobbily as I felt while I walked towards Sherlock and followed him through the doorway.

"Mrs. Hudson! I brought home a woman! She needs clothes!" He yelled out, making me gape at him in shock at his words.

He didn't seem to have noticed anything off as he carelessly took his scarf off and hung it on a hook in the hallway.

I turned away from him hearing a door open and watched as a woman in her 70's _maybe late 70's?_ bustled towards me.

"What do you mean she needs clothes?" Mrs. Hudson called out to Sherlock as he bounded upstairs.

We both stared after Sherlock as went up to his apartment and slammed his door shut.

 _Typical._

I turned towards Mrs Hudson and offered her a polite smile. Just like Sherlock, Lestrade, and John, she didn't quite look like her tv show counterpart. Though her kind smile and eyes had the same mothering maternal look.

Maternal.

 _Mom._

 _Oh mom. What I would give to hear you say that everything would be ok!_

I pushed down the sudden panicked desperation that threatened to rise up and tried to focus on the woman in front of me.

She quickly looked over me and clicked her tongue and shook her head. "You poor thing." She waved me into her home and and l found myself being herded into her warm, cozy kitchen.

Still reeling from the fact that I was in 221B Bakers Steet, I plunked down onto the chair she offered me and I looked down at the table.

 _This is defenitly NOT a set. This is ACTUALLY her table._

 _I'm sitting exactly where John sat when he went to visit her._

I glanced around her kitchen and couldn't help but notice how _lived in_ it all looked. A circular mug stain on a half open magazine, the worn table with a few nicks on the legs here and there, a corner of the small lamp on the table had some dust that managed to escape Mrs. Hudsons sharp eyes. There was even some crumbs left on the table from some breakfast that she must of had earlier.

This wasn't a set on a show but a actual place that a real, breathing person lived.

I looked up and tried to focus on what Mrs. Hudson was saying.

"Oh, a good cup of tea is what you need right now." She said, her back to me as she fussed over her tea pot.

 _Tea? Nice._

 _Actual real British tea, made in a British way...by a actual British person._

"Would you like some chocolate hazelnut or ginger biscuits?"

 _Biscuits? Like Scooby snacks?_

 _Oh right, cookies equal biscuits in England._

 _"_ Umm, ginger, please" I answered her, trying not to sound like a ignorant, uncultured colonial.

"Right." She hurried over to a cupboard, grabbed the items and bustled over with the tray of tea and cookies.

I watched her as she sat down in front of me and carefully poured me a cup of tea complete with the saucer underneath.

I clutched the saucer in front of me, eager to hold something in my hands to busy myself with.

 _Maybe that's why they like to serve people tea.. it's like a shield._

"I don't mean to pry," Mrs Hudson carefully began and she prepared her tea, "but you're the girl who's lost her memory, aren't you?"

I looked up over my tea cup at her in surprise.

She gave me a small smile and said, "I read about it in the morning papers and well," she jerked her head up towards the ceiling. "He left in such a hurry shouting about it yesterday and then you show up this morning. I put two and two together."

I must have looked pretty impressed because she gave me a wink and said, "I haven't always a landlady, dear"

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Turns out that Mrs Hudson had some pretty gnarly outfits that I could borrow for the time being. I ended up choosing a warm turtle neck and some loose fitting pants. As for underwear. Well. Let's just say in desperate times come desperate measures. It felt so uncomfortable wearing someone else's clothes but considering my situation, I was glad I even could borrow a old lady bra. And let me tell you, being on the buxomy

and fluffy side, it no fun to be without a bra in public.

Dressed in a much more comfortable outfit than I had been wearing and fortified with delicious cookies and tea, I followed Mrs Hudson up the stairs to a familiar door and I steeled myself to mentally prepare myself to talk and interact with Sherlock. I clutched his musty coat to myself. Shield material, really.

"I need to warn you, darling." Mrs Hudson turned to me as she paused right outside the door. "Sherlock can be quite peculiar and well...strange"

 _Strange?_

 _Doctor Strange?_

I nodded my head to reassure her that I would be fine.

 _Thumbs, heads and various parts of a dead human body in the fridge, I know._

It didn't seem to reassure her but she turned to knock on the door. We both jumped as the door suddenly jerked open and Sherlock glared down at us.

"You're late." He informed us as he waved us into the room unceremoniously. "How long does one need to get clothing on? Oh yes, you must have been chatting with each other like all women tend to do."

"Sherlock," Mrs Hudson retorted disapprovingly, "this poor girl needed a good cup of tea and some time to sit down."

"Tea? Tea sounds lovely. Mrs Hudson, I'll have a cup if you don't mind." He gave her the fakest of all fake smiles and turned to me. "Becca, you can have Johns old room."

During the whole interaction I tried my best not to look around the apartment and gap at everything. Definitely _not_ a set.

"Johns old room?" Mrs Hudson squawked.

I winced and waited for her to protest. I'm a girl, Sherlock is a man, my virtue must be protected, propriety and such.

"Sherlock.." Mrs Hudson shook her head as she glared at him. "You should have let me know. I would have bought up some new bedding."

She turned around and smiled at me reassuringly, "In fact, I'll go bring up some now."

I stared at her as she bustled out, calling out cheerfully that we should go clothes shopping together as soon as possible.

I turned around to face Sherlock and noticed him staring at me expectantly. I handed over his dirty coat and looked up at him. "Thanks for the coat." I paused, wanting to somehow say more to thank him. "It was..warm."

We awkwardly stood there for a few seconds and I plastered a slight smile on my face.

"So...Johns room?" I pressed my lips together and raised my eyebrows.

"Yes."

"Where would that be?"

Did he just look a bit disappointed? I followed him as he walked out the door and opened the one door at the top of the stairs, standing aside so I could walk in first.

 _Well, how gentlemanly like._

I looked around the small room and noticed how clean and bare everything looked. A bed, a small dresser, a window, a small closet with an accordion door, and a mini trash can next to the desk were the only things in the room.

 _No wonder we never saw his room in the show...it's not really much to look at._

 _Besides,_ I mused, _they probably couldn't have even fit a camera man in here very well to film any scenes._

I looked up at Sherlock and tried to ignore his studying look and instead tried to express my gratitude. It's not everyday that some random tv show character turns up and give you room and board for free.

"Thank you, Sherlock.." I attempted to smile up at him while he stared down at me.

 _Probably trying to analyze me._

 _C'mon man..I know you're Sherlock and supposed to be weird and odd but now it's just plain creepy._

He suddenly smiled at me. Not in the friendly way but in the creepy Cheshire Cat way and suddenly turned to go down the stairs. I had the feeling that the smile was gone as quickly as it had arrived.

"Make yourself at home. John wouldn't mind." He called out as he went down the stairs and walked into his apartment.

I closed the door, turned back to my room and sat down in the edge of the bed, hugging myself as I looked around again.

 _Well, at least I don't have much to unpack._

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

I sat on the bed staring out the window when I heard the thumping of feet bounding up the stairs and felt my heart flip flop as someone banged on Sherlocks door.

"Sherlock!" I recognized that voice. The detective, Lestrade.

"Detective"

I walked over to my closed door and, being the snoop I was, tried to listen in on the conversation.

"Sherlock, you can't just take a key witness to a crime!"

"She's hardly a witness if she claims to have amnesia."

"That's not the point! It's simple protocol-"

I couldn't quite hear the raised voice of Lestrade once Sherlock closed his door so I missed exactly what had happened and what had been said but I found out later that Sherlock somehow convinced Lestrade that the safest and best place for me was right where I was.

If only that was true.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Later that night, after a light dinner that Mrs Hudson brought to my room, I laid down on my new bed eghaussted and tried to get some rest. I turned over onto my side, shivering, and buried my head further into the covers when I realized something.

 _I'll never get to watch the Avengers battle Thanos... or watch the upcoming Black Panther movie... or the new Thor Ragnarok movie._

I felt my lower lip jut out as I scrunched my face up further into my pillow.

 _Or watch all the upcoming Netflix series that I was so looking forward to._

"Why am I so pathetic?" I half whispered and shook my head. "I'm stuck in a alternate universe-tv-show-who-knows-what-place, and all I can think about is stupid movies and tv shows?"

I curled up tighter into a ball.

 _What if I can't ever get back? I'll be stuck here forever._

 _Mom and Dad._ I finally allowed myself to think of them.

 _They're probably freaking out. Probably going on searches and handing out posters. They're never gonna stop looking for me._

 _Did I ever tell them how much I loved them? That they were the best parents anyone could hope for?_

 _My siblings._

I scrunched my eyes shut and wiped away the tears that squeezed out with the edge of the bed sheet.

 _Will I ever see them again? Never be able to tease them, be teased in return, or talk with them about silly things all night..._

I could just imagine my parents weeping as they held each other on the living room sofa, surrounded by my siblings, praying that someone would know where I went, that somehow I would be found.

 _Do they think I'm dead?_

 _What about my friends? They'll never have any closure. Are they part of search parties going into the woods looking for me?_

 _Am I in the news? A unsolved case that'll baffle people for years to come?_

 _Am I now a statistic? A story to tell others to be on guard to not go missing?_

I took a few hiccupping breaths before succumbing to deep wracking sobs that I tried to stifle by pressing my hands over my mouth.

 _I want to go home. Please. Let me go home._

I cried for myself, for fear of never returning to my world. I cried for my friends, that they'd never know what had happened to me and would fear the same for themselves.

But most of all, I cried for two people whose hearts were surely breaking as they wondered where their little baby girl had gone, holding onto a slim hope that, perhaps, they would see her once more.


End file.
